


Crossroads

by evenmyneck (stopmopingstarthoping)



Series: Regime [1]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mob, Gen, tags and rating subject to change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:27:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24043612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stopmopingstarthoping/pseuds/evenmyneck
Summary: Three syndicates control Fódlan behind the scenes.  The Alliance controls computer infrastructure, big data, security software, and casinos. If there's something you don't want them to know, they probably already do. The Empire controls lucrative manufacturing of pharmaceuticals and drugs, including cutting-edge R&D. All above-board, of course, and no illicit substances; perish the thought.  The Kingdom is primarily involved in gun running and military weapons, but one of its high-profile members controls a small but profitable group of strip clubs.The three factions have been at war for territory for five years. On the first day of the Blue Sea Moon, the second in command of each syndicate will come together to negotiate a peace treaty. It's all very quiet and non-eventful: no guns, no muscle, no trouble. What could go wrong?
Relationships: Black Eagles Students & Edelgard von Hresvelg, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd & Blue Lions Students, Golden Deer Students & Claude von Riegan, TBD - Relationship
Series: Regime [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1982006
Comments: 4
Kudos: 9





	Crossroads

“Perfect. Like a well-oiled machine.”

From her desk, Edelgard’s chin tipped up in an elegant salute to the surveillance footage outside Derdriu, the most popular casino in Leicester territory, playing out as they watched in her expansive office. The television screen mounted high in the corner showed their troops running several special delivery packages inside. It had gone without a hitch, as had the subsequent transactions from inside the casino, and the flow of cash back to their organization. Dorothea had proven to be an excellent supervisor of the entire project, and Edelgard raised her eyebrows in Dorothea’s direction in appreciation. Dorothea inclined her head in acknowledgement and smiled.

Hubert stood behind Edelgard, just as pleased with the success of this orchestration, and paused the replay at her unspoken command. 

Petra covered her mouth with her fingers, shocked, and blinked at what she’d just seen. “Do we not have an agreement to stay within our own boundaries?”

“This may not be the way they do things on the Island, _Petra_ , but rest assured I have no fear of Hilda and her disorganized...crew.” Derision dripped from scarlet lips. Edelgard waved the fingers of one hand vaguely, and the images on the screen disappeared completely. 

Ever eager to challenge Edelgard’s decisions, Ferdinand jumped in. “I cannot imagine that this will get past the Alliance’s intelligence for long. Have you forgotten that security is part of their actual business? Are you prepared for the inevitable counterstrike?”

He stepped in front of Edelgard’s desk, all foolish hubris and foppish insistence. 

Edelgard gave him a long look up and down, and Hubert enjoyed the way it made Ferdinand shift in his expensive boots. Really, if it wasn’t for the significant amount of money the von Aegir family funneled into their operation, he would have several things to say about allowing this ridiculous upstart as much leash as Edelgard granted him. Still, it was incredibly enjoyable to watch her yank his collar back every now and then, as she was about to.

Edelgard leaned over her desk, an amused grin teasing around her mouth. “Do you really think a ragtag group of warring thugs gives me the slightest pause? Do you think that I couldn’t snatch their own territory out from under their feet at a moment’s notice?”

Ferdinand gasped. “Then why—why haven’t you?”

A frosty silence hung in the air until Edelgard spoke again. “Maybe when you’re smart enough to figure that out, you’ll earn more responsibility around here.”

Without waiting for him to respond, she turned to Hubert. “Are all the arrangements in play for the meeting on the first?” They had already discussed most of the details in private, of course; this was just Edelgard’s way of cutting Ferdinand off at the knees.

She looked past Ferdinand as though he wasn’t even there, over her desk elevated on a couple of steps from the rest of the room.

“Caspar. Petra. Coordinate with Hubert. The ‘agreement’”—and here she glanced up toward the ceiling mockingly—“is that each representative will attend alone, but I have no intention of honoring that. Particularly not with someone as valuable as Hubert. He will require backup.” She fixed a steady gaze on Caspar." _Indiscernible_ backup. I need you to be discreet.”

Caspar jumped up eagerly, knocking over Bernadetta’s coffee and making her yelp in discomfiture. He instantly darted around to clean it up.

“Sorry, Bernie! I’ll help.” He turned back to Edelgard quickly. “You can count on me! No one will know we’re there unless we want them to!” He bounded from the room to get supplies for cleaning, and Edelgard pressed her lips together. Hubert could tell that she was thinking something along the lines of _going to war with the army one has, not the army one wants_ , and he placed a quiet hand on her shoulder.

Linhardt sprawled across the couch in a lackadaisical manner that drew Hubert’s disapproval. “Not that you’ve asked for my opinion, but have you considered just...not going?” Dark green hair draped disrespectfully across the arm of the sofa and dangled toward the floor.

Edelgard’s forehead wrinkled, but she nodded at him to continue.

“Let them fight with each other; do whatever it is they’re going to do, and we can come in and make some use of the discord.”

Edelgard’s head tilted thoughtfully. 

“No. We will honor the agreement to meet. But your idea is worth thinking about in other contexts.”

She stood and walked down the two steps, stacked heels clacking against shiny marble floors.

“Hubert.”

He was already following, seamlessly.

* * *

The sounds of shattering glass and a guttural growl sounded from the next room, followed by a low, answering rumble.

Leaned back on a settee with one leg crossed over the other in a pretense at carelessness, Sylvain glanced briefly at Felix. Based on what they were hearing, Dedue was keeping his calm, but just barely. 

Felix was poised as always, shifted forward in a chair, never letting go of the butterfly knife that flipped back and forth and spun around his fingers. 

A flat brown gaze met Sylvain’s.

“I fucking told you. He’s not stable enough to lead. Never has been.” Silver glinted off the flick of the knife in the fading afternoon light.

At that, Ingrid turned from the window, quick and defensive.

“Not again, Felix. Not today.” 

Sylvain sat up a little as she strode toward Felix, getting close enough for both of them to see the angry red slash bisecting her nose and the top of her cheek. She leaned in just enough to get into Felix’s space, and opened her mouth to refute his challenge to Dimitri’s authority, but she was interrupted when Annette sighed from the corner. 

“Guys.” She inclined her head toward the door, which was easing its way open. 

Dedue emerged, alone. He cleared his throat and pulled his jacket back on with precise movements. He straightened his tie before making eye contact with any of them. 

“I will return in two weeks.” His voice was quiet, and did not invite inquiry.

That had never stopped Sylvain before. 

“What’s up? What about the meeting?” He got to his feet and examined Dedue’s face for clues about the state of… things. Things in Dimitri’s office specifically.

Dedue leveled a gaze at him. “In answer to your first question, you will have to ask Dimitri about that. As for the second…” He looked around the room. “I’m sure we are well-equipped for that. I trust it will be handled with no difficulty.”

He nodded politely, and strode from the room.

Ingrid nodded in response, and gathered up her briefcase. “Well, that’s that, then. I’ll start preparing for the meeting.”

“What the—”

“Hey now—”

Felix’s attention was finally piqued, and he and Sylvain tripped over one another to put the brakes on Ingrid.

She blinked, surprised. “It’s a meeting of seconds, right? And that’s me, with Dedue off on—” she waved her hand in the direction he’d departed—“whatever he’s doing. Which I’m sure Dimitri will _tell_ me, as soon as I ask him about the meeting.” 

Her grasp on the doorknob faltered, though, at the sound of a grunt and a large bottle shattering. It sounded like it had liquid inside this time.

“That had _better_ not be the good scotch.” Felix grumbled from the corner.

Ingrid turned. “Maybe we should just—decide who’s going amongst ourselves, and confirm with Dimitri.” Another crash sounded, this one with a faint hint of wood splintering. “Via text.”

Felix leaned back again, the knife continuing to spin almost unconsciously between his fingers. “Well. What are we trying to accomplish at this meeting?”

Ingrid sat next to Sylvain, facing Felix. “It’s an attempt to reach some sort of truce.”

Sylvain rolled his eyes. “Allegedly.”

“I wasn’t born yesterday, Sylvain. Obviously there’s some sort of angle.”

“You’re not answering the question.” Felix snapped his knife, put it away, and stood up, jamming his hands in his pockets.

“If we want someone to bust in the front door and beat the shit out of both of them, no questions asked, well.” Felix looked at Ingrid with a certain amount of respect. “But I don’t think we should assume that we can’t get more than one thing done here.”

“Are you saying you need the patented Gautier charm to cut some sort of a deal?” Sylvain grinned and folded his arms behind his head.

“Ugh.” Felix set his jaw and returned his gaze to Ingrid. “Look, I’m not going to agree that he’s fucking charming, but he has a point. Ingrid, you’re one of the best at what you do, but you’re a blunt instrument.”

She nodded.

“And this asshole has got the questionable gift of prattling and smiling at people—in addition to other things I’d rather not think about—to get his way.”

“You and me both.”

“Hey!” 

Ingrid hadn’t disagreed, though, and it sounded like they were decided. She groaned. “Fine. The next time von Vestra causes trouble, just remember I offered to kill him for you.”

She left, and Annette stared after her, eyes round and two spots of pink high on her cheeks.

Felix brushed by her, more brusque than he needed to be. “You’re catching flies, Annette.” 

“Come on, Sylvain. Might as well get this over with.”

Sylvain followed as Felix yanked the door to Dimitri's office open. 

“What do you two want?” The growl started before the door was even fully open.

“Shut the fuck up and listen, asshole.”

Sylvain politely closed the door behind them and started to pick up pieces of glass and put them in the wastebasket. “Nice to see you as always, Dima.”

* * *

“I’ll go myself. It’s the biggest head fake of all.” Claude spread his hands behind the large expanse of dark wooden desk as if it were the simplest proposition in the world. 

Hilda snorted. “That’s fucking stupid, Claude. What if they kill you?” She tossed long, bubblegum-pink strands behind her shoulder and looked at him, quick assessment behind her teasing expression. “Molinaro is out; Iggy’s sources say it’s Gautier. Honest and straightforward are not in his vocabulary.”

Claude kicked his feet up on the desk and ticked off on his fingers. “One, they won't bother with me; they still think you’re running the show around here.” 

Hilda’s mumbled “because _I am_ ” was lost under his next point. 

“Two, if they kill me there’s no one to do a deal with. And they both, desperately, need to do this deal. For their families, of course, but also for themselves. I’m not going into this without multiple angles.” It was true, of course, and there were a few more factors at play that Claude was keeping even closer to the vest, just for himself. Probably no need to use them, but better safe than sorry. 

“And three, you think little old Claude, one of the best sharpshooters in the five counties, isn’t a match for a boytoy and a gloomy pencil-pusher? Ye of little faith.” He made a gun with his fingers, aimed, and shot it with a silly grin. 

Lorenz turned, unamused, in the corner of the room where he'd been pretending to peruse the bookshelves. He took a sip of his drink and peered at Claude over the rim, rings glittering. 

“Overconfidence. And don’t talk about yourself in the third person; it's unbecoming.”

Hilda sat on the desk and swung one stiletto-clad foot, crossing the other leg over idly.

“‘Pencil-pusher’ is way underestimating Hubert von Vestra. Like, _way._ ” She examined her chrome-tipped nails for a moment and then looked up. “He’s lethal. Take Raph.”

Claude let a rolling laugh burst out of his chest. “Look, Hilda, I love that bastard as much as you do, and I trust him with my life. I do. But our dear Raphael is about as subtle as a machine gun. This is supposed to be a _peaceful negotiation_. No weapons, no muscle.”

Hilda sighed. “I don’t like it.” She leaned back on one arm and leveled a long gaze at Claude. "You're sure about this?" 

Claude's voice was smooth. "Sure as always. My backup plans have backup plans. And you, of course."

"I thought we couldn't come with you?" 

"You can't. But you can, potentially, happen to get your toes done at a place three blocks away. If you wouldn't mind. Just in case. You know."

She looked at him levelly, assessing, then nodded. "I'm bringing Lys. And don't make us get our hands dirty if you can help it."

Claude nodded, and then Lorenz jumped in.

“And don’t fall for Sylvain’s…” Lorenz gestured with one hand, “...that _thing_ he does.”

Claude leaned close and swiveled around Lorenz toward the door. “That thing he does with his…what was it again? You seem to have intimate knowledge here.” Lorenz flushed and scowled, and Claude blinked innocently and tilted his head, not moving away from being uncomfortably close. “Gonna send me in uninformed then?”

Though, I guess as the _real_ number two, you win either way, hey?” The words came out just a tinge harder than he intended, so he beamed at Lorenz and waited an extra beat before moving to the door. 

Lorenz just made a _hmm_ ing noise around another sip and tried to ignore how much of his space Claude had invaded. His gaze flicked quickly to Hilda, but she was already texting Marianne to set up logistics. 

“I meant the thing with the _talking_ , Claude. He’s a fast talker; don't let him distract you. Or derail the negotiations.”

A slow smile eased across Claude's face as he stepped away, finally. 

“So he’s a fast talker _and_ a flirt. You think I can't go toe-to-toe with him on both counts?” He placed one hand over his heart in mock seriousness and turned back toward the desk. “You wound me, Lorenz.”

Lorenz just tossed violet strands behind a shoulder and glowered. 

"Gotta go. Limited time to set everything in motion."

Lorenz. I leave it to you.”

Hilda looked from one to the other, sighed heavily, and snapped her clutch shut.   
  



End file.
